


Invader With Sins

by RikkuShinra



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cadets, Gen, Imperial Officers, Negotiations, Parent Cor Leonis, Political Alliances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikkuShinra/pseuds/RikkuShinra
Summary: Ever since Prompto signed up for the Crownsgaurd, Cor has seen him as a son. The child he never had. To combat Prompto's self doubt, Cor's affirmations give Prompto strength and a leg to stand on,that he's doing the right thing. At least till the Niflheim delegation arrive and he's left doubting everything.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Cor Leonis
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carmei14](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmei14/gifts).



Cor Leonis has been known as the Marshall since he was eighteen. The title, and rank, given to him by the late Mors Lucis Caelum due to his unfailing abilities and dogged determination to prove himself worthy of being Shield, a testament to how someone of low birth could rise to power in Insomnia. While Cor was pleased, he wasn't happy when he got passed over for the position of Regis' Shield, due in part of Clarus' infallibility to be swayed in taking down the one and only Gilgamesh. Cor attempted that feat willingly at the young age of fifteen, Mors saw someone who deserved respect, honor and accolades aplenty, after all Cor had earned it. Regis' own pushing for the younger man to get something, some sort of recognition, for following him into the heat of battle; giving command to the Crownsgaurd to a child, a boy, seemed appropriate. That decision to divide the leader ship between the Shield and some lowly pleb, has never sat well with anyone. 

But their opinion didn't matter then and it still didn't matter almost thirty years later when Cor, now in command of the future advisors and guards of Noctis, the soon to be one hundred and fourteenth regent of the Caelum dynasty, was facing the biggest challenge ever. Cor found pride in the ease of training Ignis, a quick learner who picked up on combat and tactics with ease. Then there was Gladiolus, a prodigy of his father the boy was also a quick start. Something Cor could not rightfully take whole credit for; Clarus was a great support in teaching the boy and that made his own job much easier. 

Lastly there was the fidgety blonde that kept his eyes down and his knees knocking when ever in Cors presence. Prompto was smart, he had the dedication but his self esteem was so low there was a black void following the boy around. 

The void showed, each practice that Cor attended, Prompto would bow his head waiting for the unexpected, for the boogie man to come out and take him away. 

"He's absolutely terrified of you." Regis offered after an afternoon spent observing the new batch of trainees. Cor stood beside him for a moment, searching the floor for the answers, but none came nor would they. 

"You think so?"

Regis had placed his hand on the Marshall's shoulder and squeezed, "of course" with a bright, lemony yellow—if gauged on a scale—grin. "You're Cor the Immortal, who isn't afraid of you?"

From his thoughts a constant nagging idea persisted, he was sure someone isn't terrified, but at this moment that annoying niggle in his brain just couldn't produce a name. "It's not like I'm going to report him to be extradited to Niflheim." 

A sudden air of awkwardness fell over them, Regis looking anywhere but Cor and Cor staring out from the canvas tent. Regis shifted, from his good to bad leg then back again. They stayed this way, awkwardly staring outside from their tent till Regis drew in a loud sigh, hummed stating, "you should probably talk to him about that," then walked off disrupting the training as the Guards hurried to bow and greet their liege. 

"Why the fuck does he do that shit?" Cor muttered, the upturn of Regis' ears signifying he was in fact smiling despite his schooled features. 

Begrudgingly, Cor knew Regis was right. He needed to handle Prompto Argentum in a delicate manner, otherwise the boy would disappear into his void of anxiety. As he sat in his recliner, like all men who have great ponderings, he decided to compile a list. One with facts. 

Such as- 'we will not report you to the immigration official and extradite you to Niflheim out her holdings.' With Cor's position and access to information he was able to decipher that the young man had been part of a genetic experiment related to the creation of MTs, thusly he included 'you are not an MT.' He hoped that one had not over stepped blinds as the boy was rather insightful that sixteen year olds don't generally have barcodes, once lamenting in a fit of nerves and agitation that he was a monster. "Well, your not a monster either," Cor stated one night in his office as he added another affirmation to the extensive list of what Prompto is not, while the other half of the screen was a compilation of what Prompto is—smart, friendly, passionate and artistic, worthy of praise and so forth. 

With each passing day new affirmations where added, so to did Cor add more things that did not represent the young man. With each day, Prompto came out of the void, little by little, not that it would never exist, it always would be there, one negative thought away from expanding and swallowing him whole. 

Cor tried not to think of those days in which that would happen. Prompto had been making progress, learning new weapons and skills that the only thing that would bring him down and blot out this new found confidence would be a soul crushing blow to his friendship with His Highness. 

"I am a Lucian warrior, one of the best. I am not a puppet." Cor had pulled Prompto into his office, hoping to keep him from any prying eyes of the visiting Niflheim delegation. Prompto shifted, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear then glanced at his reflection in the mirror, "you," he wavers and swallows hard, "you are the remains of Lucian scum?" The last words putters, wavering to silence. He draws a heavy breath, snot dragging back. He looks away from the mirror, ignoring the screech of Cor's chair across cement. The paper is jerked from his hand and he is left to dig his nails into his palms. 

"Prompto, your not. Do you understand me? You are nothing of the sort, I-I," the paper crumples in Cor's fist. "I'll get to the bottom of this, alright?" He jerks his head stiffly. 

"Imma, I'm going to go, I'm sure Ora is waiting to start." The slam of blinds against the frosted glass embossed with Cor Leonis, Marshall, reflects the thudding in Cor's chest. 

"The combat skills of the Crownsgaurd is," Loqi Tummelt glances to the side, eyes draw to a discarded SOLDIER brand lemon lime soda. While he doesn't dislike peace visits to Insomnia, he has only been on a handful, a majority with Caligo Ulldor, whom he dislikes. Not that Caligo is annoying, or anything, it's just he is annoying, snooty and finds Titus Dratuos to be the biggest pain in the ass this side of Liede. 

Not that Loqi is trying to one up him with his self proclamation of rivaling Cor Leonis, but well, he is. 

"The Crownsguard is not the main military force," Loqi mutters, hoping Caligo forgot his hearing aids. 

"Yes, I am well aware of that, but their technique is more primitive than our soldiers." Loqi can feel his eyes rolling before he even thinks about it. Ravus sends a sharp nudge to his shin despite his own poorly hidden smile. He hates the man just as much, if not more, but that princely regality bred into him keeps him in check. "That is the human fallacy. Their emotions." Caligo gawfs, he's next in line for High Commander—a position he has been eyeing since General Glauca's injury twelve years prior and the unexpected death of Deputy High Commander Tummelt, a guiding hand from Lord Death helped the sexagenarian into an early grave. Now he waits, his hopes riding high on the Emperor finally seeing his greatness in the upcoming negotiations. Loqi draws a sharp breath, holding it at he turns around searching for something more interesting that Caligo's ego. 

Down the hall, Loqi spots a young blond, harried tension raising his shoulders as he passes, he can almost make out a dust cloud with how fast the boy is moving. Unlike the other Crownsgaurd, this one –obviously still a trainee as marked by the emblem of his shirt– pays no heed to three Niflheim commanders. He is practically running when Cor, The Immortal Lucian Marshall, comes into his line of sight. To Loqi's future dismay, he has wandered into the stream of traffic, bored with Caligo and pissed Ravus won't turn a blind eye to his mocking of the older man. Later, after strained pleasantries between Ambassador Percula, the Niflheim military commanders and the ruining Lucian council, he and Ravus will joke behind closed doors like always, mocking Caligo and his blind ego. 

In the present he just gets bowled down by a blonde freckled freight train. They lay sprawled on the path, Loqi groaning from the impact and the trainee shaking above him. The boy sniffles, clutching at Loqi's uniform jacket. The leather creaks as his fingers twist, hands balled into fists. The boy clings. Loqi stills unsure if he should push the boy off angering the throbbing in his head, or just lay there and allow the boy to cry. He just lays there, his head hurts less than when he moves. 

"Cadet Argentum!" Argentum's grip lessened, his weight pulling away as Cor lifts him up. Looking down at the victim, Cor's brows lift surprised to find the young general has fell to a distressed teenager. "Major Tummelt, pardon my cadet." 

The throbbing headache returns full force. Cor looks down, steely eyed and disgruntled while his cadet is tearful, flushed and leaves Loqi with deja vu. 

Ravus pulls Loqi from the floor, Caligo grunting, leans against the banister as he watches the exchange. "The Major understands, he too was once a cadet."

At ten, Loqi thinks, not sixteen. 

Cor nods, shifting his grip of the boy to his bicep than under his arms. "If you will excuse us."

"Oh Marshall? Will you be in the talks today?" Loqi smirks, he can almost smell the Marshall's coffee ladened sigh. 

Cor does sigh as he glances back at the puny upstart. He doesn't hate the boy, he just doesn't want to waste any energy conversing with him beyond what is required. "No Major, I will not be." There is something about the boy smile that makes Cor uneasy. No matter the distance he places between the Niflheim commanders and himself and Prompto, it prods him. An ill feeling that settles in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Loqi's room in the Citadel proper is as bad and disorganized as his barrick accommodation back in Gralea, some odd thing about nobles, little lordlings raised with a gold spoon and hand fed that leaves them unable to tend themselves. Ravus knows this because he has just tripped over Loqi's luggage, bumped his shin on the youngers armor and face planted in what he can only hope to be a midnight snack. 

"Damnit Tummelt." He groans, pushing himself up in the cool darkness of the room. The only light source comes from the far side where Loqi sits behind a laptop giggling every so often followed by an odd but wholly 

Mendearing "ho-ho-ho"ing. A well bred diabolical mastermind. "What are you doing?" Ravus snaps as he palms the shadow of a table to locate a lamp. When one is found he doesn't hesitate to warn Loqi to close his eyes, he pushes the switch down and yellow light blinds them both momentarily. Loqi grunts, mutters a curse and squints out to continue his nefarious plan. 

Ravus, recovered from the blinding light, turns back to Loqi ready to repeat himself. "The General asked me to hack the Citadel's computers." Ravus frowned, crossing his arms. He was never pleased with Caligo, he prayed constantly that some 'accident' occurred even after Gentiana warned him to stop. He didn't, just chose a different Astral to plead to and if Ravus would dare be honest he would off the man himself. Somethings are best left unsaid though and murderous intent was one. 

Who would he have cover something that heinous up? Loqi? There is that Highwind girl, she has a  _ certain  _ look about her. "Did you find anything?"

Loqi smiles for a moment, "yes, of course." They share a moment of silence. Ravus mustering up some confidence to ask the grinning little fool what he is finding so entertaining. "Cor Leonis has a list of daily motivational quotes and life has never been better." Well, that answered where Loqi's bottomless excitement came from. It is not the information he is really interested in. 

Ravus watches Loqi light up with childish glee, then scans the floor for what he had landed in. It's a gelatinous bag of lime green goo, his face slowly disappering from it as it morphs back to a flat solid. He is better off not to ask. 

On the other side of Insomnia, Prompto steps off the purple line bus. He's a block from home, stomach twisting but he can't bring himself to eat. He brings a hand up, gingerly touching his temple. The day became shit after that morning. Cor thinks he's scum but even worse than that he embarrassed not only himself and Cor, but the Crown as well when he tackled that kid. He can't get the smirk from the older man out of his face or the shock residing on that boy's face when Cor manhandled him off. 

"I am scum." He mutters. Not that anyone would hear him this late at night. The roads are always suspiciously empty, cars lining the streets till late twilight when all adults seemingly disapper for hours once sunlight crest the tallest roofs all gone to work. As he draws closer to his house he sees the living room light on and his parents sedan parked outside the gate. His pace picks up, by the time he reaches the front door he's out of breath and stumbling on his feet. Through the door he hears their laughter-deep, soft, high and full bellied- he hesitates, hand on the knob. The doorbell chimes and the laughter ends. 

"Coming" his mother's voice shouts, he can make out a faint giggle before the door is jerked open and the glittering smile she had drops. "Prompto? Why didn't you just come in?" She frowns, back stepping out of his path. Edith Argentum glances to her husband whose hesitates with a green glass bottle to his lips. They are a gorgeous couple, raven haired with varied shades of warm brown eyes, like most people of Lucian descent. 

“We saved you dinner.” Prompto nods as he takes the stairs two at a time. The seconds it takes to reach his door, drawn out by his mother's shouts, feel like forever. Once the door is shut behind him the waves of failure crash over him, robbing him of what strength he has left, and leaves him slumbering in the salty damp spot that has formed. 


End file.
